


i miss you too much to be mad anymore

by tmylm



Series: the wreck we made [4]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Breakup, F/F, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:35:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23897617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tmylm/pseuds/tmylm
Summary: A series of requested one-shots to fill in some blanks fromThe Wreck We Madeuniverse.
Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Series: the wreck we made [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1701175
Comments: 34
Kudos: 94





	i miss you too much to be mad anymore

**Author's Note:**

> Present time. The first time Beca and Chloe get intimate together after getting back together.
> 
> Chapter title from Taylor Swift's _I Wish You Would_.

#  _Beca — Present._

In Beca’s opinion, her recreation of their first meeting idea could’ve been very hit or miss. Like she and Chloe have discussed on a few occasions recently—tonight included—they’re not twenty anymore, they’re not kids anymore. There have been many, many changes throughout the last eight years, growing maturity only a small scratch on the less-than-shiny surface.

Fortunately, Beca realizes once they decide they are done for the evening, both nicely tipsy and with their fingers tangled comfortably together across the middle of the table, the idea had been more on the _hit_ side. Their flirty text message and phone call interactions have admittedly translated well in person, and Beca is positive it is not just due to the alcohol flowing throughout their systems.

Instinctively, following Beca ordering their Uber home, their hands reconnect easily, in a way that is so calmly familiar to Beca, as they walk side by side out of the bar. Chloe is her usual, giggly, playful self, while Beca’s cheek heats up under the feeling of a soft peck from Chloe’s lips.

“Bec, we are _so_ old,” Chloe chuckles quietly, amusement displayed plainly across her pale face. It is neither particularly hot nor cold in the mild outside air, but Beca opts to huddle closer toward Chloe regardless, and takes comfort in the familiar feeling of Chloe’s arm snaking around her middle. “People were totally staring.”

Beca responds with a breathy laugh, face turning to push a small peck to the bare skin of Chloe’s arm. “Since when do you care about people watching you?”

“I don’t,” Chloe shakes her head, free hand coming up to brush her fingers through the ends of Beca’s soft curls, presumably a little less uniform than they had been before the night had begun. “But you could just tell they were wondering what the two grandmothers were doing crashing their party.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Beca murmurs through a small chuckle of her own, somewhat tipsy-looking eyes rolling fondly. “But you had fun, right?” Her gaze moves upward to fix curiously on Chloe’s face, wanting to really read her expression. In spite of how _normal_ they seem, how _them_ the situation feels, Beca cannot help her need for reassurance; it is—in her opinion—one of her many flaws.

Easily, Chloe’s line of sight locks with her own; the lazy, drunk look in Beca’s favorite eyes causing her to grin in response, despite her reservations. “I did,” Chloe says with an assured nod of her head. Beca can tell by the sincere expression on her face that she truly means it. Chloe’s voice softens some, head tilting slightly, “I missed you, Bec.”

Beca responds with a gentle smile, followed by a small nod of her head. She can feel the way her cheeks heat up slightly, but doesn’t hold back in reciprocating. “I missed you, too.”

When it comes to Chloe, Beca believes wholeheartedly that there is no such thing as too much of a good thing, so naturally, she is not quite ready for their night to end. She understands that they are supposed to be building back up to the way they were again, and that that may require some time, but she will take as much of Chloe—as much _normalcy_ with Chloe—as she can get. So, as they slide into the backseat of the Uber, Chloe’s hand instantly reconnecting with Beca’s once more, Beca cannot help but gently push.

“Uh, do you want to come back to the house?” Beca tries quietly, hopefully. She catches Chloe’s sparkling gaze only seconds before the sympathetic smile on her lips, and Beca’s wall of uncharacteristic hope falls away in an instant.

“Not tonight,” Chloe responds in a soft voice, head shaking gently.

Beca simply nods, because she gets it; it _is_ going to take some time. She relaxes back into the car’s leather seat, hand still comfortably clutching Chloe’s, and allows herself the length of the journey to Aubrey and Stacie’s place to remain in she and Chloe’s blissful bubble, in the make believe world inside of her head where everything is as it should be.

Beca tries to think nothing more of it.

* * *

Considering where their relationship begun, Beca has always viewed she and Chloe’s sex life as incredibly healthy and active. The first night they met, they wound up in bed together, after all. Taking their breakup into account, of course, it makes sense that they haven’t gone down that particular path in a while. However, being intimate with Chloe is admittedly something Beca misses. One of many things, in fact.

It is a topic she is unsure of how to approach, so scenarios that may have led to sex beforehand—each date since the recreation in the bar has ended with them going home to separate houses—seem to have come and just as quickly gone over the last few weeks, and Beca truly does not want to push. But she misses Chloe, the physical part of their relationship included.

Beca has just finished up taking a shower when an incoming text message from Chloe gives her the opportunity to test the metaphorical waters.

**Chloe  
** _[pouting selfie]  
_ _I miss your face_

**Beca  
** _Oh yeah?_

Towel secured comfortably around her petite frame, Beca quickly straightens out her damp hair with her fingers. She bunches it up to let it flow over one shoulder, freeing a little more skin, before holding the phone out in front of her and opening up the camera application. Intentionally, she makes sure the top of the white towel is in view, before quickly snapping a somewhat shy looking selfie—the shy look is really not a part of the overall aesthetic; Beca just sucks at taking selfies. They never turn out as cute as Chloe’s.

**Beca  
** _[selfie]_

**Chloe  
** _You’re so cute_

While Chloe’s response causes a grin to rise to Beca’s lips, it is not quite the one she had wanted.

She attempts a different approach.

**Beca  
** _What are you doing?_

**Chloe  
** _Just hanging out_  
_What about you?_

**Beca  
** _Just took a shower_

**Chloe  
** _I see that_

Gently, Beca sucks in the inside of her cheek in thought. It is not like she is exactly giving out great hints, but even a statement so subtle is something that would normally cause Chloe to bite. Beca decides to make one more (admittedly feeble) attempt.

_**Beca  
**I’m cold_  
_In just a towel.._

She is in the process of toying with the angle to take with her next text, something about Chloe coming to warm her up or asking if she should just drop the towel, when Chloe beats her to it.

**Chloe  
** _So get dressed silly_

Beca’s lips purse.

She decides not to push any further.

* * *

Regardless of Beca’s failed attempts to hint at something a little more intimate, she doesn’t think too much of it. She knows that Chloe needs some time, she knows that they are still trying to build themselves back up. So, Beca really doesn’t think much of it. Not until a date night at the house— _their_ house—a few weeks later that sees them suddenly somewhat tangled up in each other, very much the way they used to be.

“Thank you for cooking,” Chloe’s voice, thick with appreciation, rasps softly by Beca’s ear. It is accompanied by the feeling of familiar arms snaking loosely around her waist, the sweet scent of Chloe’s perfume instantly filling her nostrils. In spite of the entirely mundane task she is currently in the process of—loading the dishwasher—Beca’s lips curl up into a natural smile.

“Mm,” Beca hums, straightening slightly in Chloe’s arms. Her body turns to face Chloe, reveling in the feeling of soft fingertips coasting along her lower back. Beca doesn’t even think about it as her arms rise to wrap instinctively around Chloe’s neck. Her shoulder length curls tickle Beca’s wrists in the most strangely familiar way. “Thank you for pretending it was good.”

As usual, Chloe’s gentle chuckle in response is like the sweetest music to Beca’s ears. “I wasn’t pretending,” she assures, face tilting downward to push a chaste kiss to Beca’s lips, a notion Beca very easily returns. Beca has missed this, she has missed the domesticity shared between them, the domesticity Beca has been used to for the better part of eight years now. She notes the way Chloe’s gaze drifts by her and toward the counter, still stacked with their dinner leftovers. “Leave that for later,” Chloe says, arms unwinding from around Beca’s middle. In the process, she captures Beca’s hand with her own, their fingers easily lacing together.

As Chloe begins to lead her toward the living room, toward the couch more specifically, Beca does not need telling twice.

There is something very natural, very easy, about the way Chloe slips comfortably onto the couch, seamlessly pulling Beca down beside her. Chloe’s soft lips are soon on her own, that overwhelming need Beca has for her rising quickly to the surface. Beca turns her body to wind her arms around Chloe’s neck, tightening the hold she has on her instantly. It proves easy for Chloe to comply, body twisting and hand settling to grasp delicately at Beca’s hip. Pulling Chloe down on top of her, Beca lays back into the cushions of the couch, and finds that she cannot help the way her body arches upward into Chloe’s, lips parting to run her tongue gently along Chloe’s bottom lip.

Willingly, Chloe parts her lips, the familiarity of her tongue brushing against Beca’s causing a soft whine to escape Beca’s throat. She can feel the way Chloe’s mouth arches upward against her own, takes comfort in Chloe’s knee pushing between her thighs.

The grip of Beca’s arms loosens, but only to slide her fingers into the back of Chloe’s hair, face tilting in a way that allows her to deepen their already somewhat desperate seeming kiss. “God, I missed you,” Beca murmurs against Chloe’s mouth, breathing already much less steady.

“I’m right here,” Chloe whispers, parting her lips from Beca’s to begin trailing small, needy kisses toward her jaw.

Beca wants her hands everywhere, she wants to touch every part of Chloe. She wants to relearn her body, to trace every last inch of it. Her head tips back slightly, hands falling from Chloe’s hair to coast her fingertips down Chloe’s back, committing every toned muscle, every delicate curve to memory. There is a distinct aching building between Beca’s legs that has her hands sliding inside of the fabric of Chloe’s shirt, lightly trembling hands moving around to the front of her body. It is difficult to properly concentrate with Chloe’s parted lips pushing wet, lasting kisses down the side of her neck, but Beca allows her hands to travel further upward until they are skimming over the cups of Chloe’s bra.

Beca doesn’t know if she is reading it right when she feels Chloe’s hand suddenly follow her own up the inside of her shirt, until long fingers are wrapping around Beca’s wrist and pulling her hand back down. She never ceases the way she continues to press kisses to the soft skin of Beca’s neck, so Beca coasts her hand beneath the fabric of Chloe’s shirt again, until Chloe finally breaks the contact.

“Bec, stop,” Chloe breathes, reaching inside of her shirt to move Beca’s hand again. Beca glances down at her with slightly knitted brows, takes in the way Chloe’s chest is rising and falling just as quickly as her own. Chloe pushes a small kiss to Beca’s lips, before sliding backward to kneel up on the couch. There is something almost awkward about the way Chloe tucks her shoulder length curls behind her ears.

“What happened?” Beca questions in confusion, pushing herself upright slightly, too. “What’s wrong?”

Chloe seems to think for a moment, before eventually sending Beca a soft, almost apologetic smile, one that Beca doesn’t fully understand. “Nothing,” she promises in a soft voice, ocean blue eyes glancing down toward her, before just as quickly sweeping away.

Despite her confusion, Beca doesn’t ask any further questions.

She realizes it is perhaps because she is afraid of the answer.

* * *

Date nights at the house—their house—have become the norm. Money is tight, and honestly there really is not a whole lot to do in their town. Though, Beca is not complaining. She likes this, she likes the time she gets one-on-one with Chloe. Admittedly, though, the ending of their dates is something Beca has grown to feel anxious about, because despite the fact that Chloe knows she is welcome to stay, despite the invitations Beca extends, Chloe always seems to decline.

Beca is hopeful tonight, though. Tonight, rather than staying in the living room, they have somehow relocated to the bedroom— _their_ bedroom—and Beca is hopeful that this is where they will remain for the rest of the night.

It is incredibly easy for Beca to entirely lose herself in the moment with Chloe, especially given the way her hips grind down into Beca’s as she hovers over the top of her, their lips pushing needy, urgent kisses to one another’s. Beca’s arms are looped loosely around Chloe’s neck, though they tighten to tug Chloe’s body closer. Her leg slips between Chloe’s thighs, and Beca instinctively bends her knee, pressing her thigh delicately into her. Chloe is wearing a dress, and Beca suddenly wishes she wasn’t wearing her jeans, because she wants to _feel_ Chloe, she wants to feel if this whole makeout session is working her up in the same way it is for Beca.

Presumably, it is an instinctive reaction for Chloe’s hips to begin to grind gently against Beca’s thigh; in turn the feeling causing a small smirk to rise to Beca’s lips. They part slightly, tongue moving against Chloe’s in the most natural way. With her thigh still pushing between Chloe’s parted legs, friction evidently picking up, Chloe lets out a soft whimper into Beca’s mouth. Beca cannot help the way she pulls back just to stare up at Chloe, taking in the needy expression on her face. Like Beca’s, Chloe’s breathing has quickened, and Beca watches the way her chest rises and falls faster from the corner of her eye. “Chlo—”

“I should get going,” Chloe whispers, cutting Beca off mid-sentence. Her hip movements slow to a stop, and it takes Beca a moment to register her words.

Eventually, Chloe begins to pull back, apologetic expression wrinkling onto her face.

“Wait, what?” Beca questions in obvious confusion, words delivered still a little breathlessly. She swallows thickly, slowly pushing her body upright as Chloe straightens up on top of her. “You don’t have…” Her words die on her tongue in response to the sympathetic look deepening across Chloe’s features.

“I know,” Chloe murmurs, scooting back until she is no longer straddling Beca’s thighs. She reaches up to tuck her fallen curls behind her ears. Chloe seems to think momentarily, to consider something, before continuing in an apologetic tone. “It’s getting late, I’m sorry.”

Beca wants to tell her to stay, she desperately wants to tell her to stay. But Chloe has already begun to shuffle away from her until she can lower herself down from the bed, and honestly, Beca just doesn’t know if she can really handle the verbal rejection.

* * *

Although Aubrey and Stacie’s house is pretty close by, it takes more than the five minutes Beca leaves it between Chloe getting in her car and nervously texting her to get there. Still, she can’t help herself; she cannot shut up the incessant nagging in her mind, and Beca needs some answers.

**Beca  
** _Chlo, why do you keep stopping this?_

Honestly, a part of her doesn’t even want to know, but both curiosity and anxiety have gotten the better of her. She doesn’t expect a response immediately, but Beca finds herself watching the time, trying to decipher when Chloe will be done driving. Her response comes through right on time, and Beca’s heart drops as she reads over the message.

**Chloe  
** _I keep picturing you with someone else_

It is understandable, all things considered. If the roles were reversed, Beca is positive she would feel the same way, so it is not like she can exactly be mad. Chloe’s feelings are valid, Beca knows that. It doesn’t make it sting any less, though. Beca chews down onto her lower lip as she types up a response, sinking back onto the couch.

**Beca  
** _I get that_  
_I’m so sorry_

**Chloe  
** _I know you are, Bec_  
_I’m not mad  
_ _I know it’s stupid, it’s just that when I think about the last person you were intimate with not being me, I don’t know, it just makes me feel weird_

Again, Beca’s heart breaks in two.

**Beca  
** _I understand, I really do_  
_But that wasn’t intimacy, Chlo_

**Chloe  
** _Then what was it?_

**Beca  
** _Sex_  
_Meaningless sex_

**Chloe  
** _Yeah_  
_I’m sorry_

**Beca  
** _Don’t be, I get it_

Chloe heart reacts the message, and Beca defeatedly sinks further back into the couch. Her eyes close, and she proceeds to exhale a soft sigh through her nose.

Naturally, Beca spends the night tossing and turning. She understands Chloe’s concerns, she understands her feelings. As painful as it is to think of Chloe imagining such a meaningless, one-time mistake of a hookup as something _intimate_ , Beca understands why she does. But like she’d said, that wasn’t intimacy. Bending over a sink in the men’s room, picturing someone else’s face and wishing so hard for that same someone else the whole time, that wasn’t intimacy.

Eventually, Beca’s thoughts become turning cogs, until come morning, an idea—albeit not necessarily a great one, but an idea all the same—has planted itself firmly in her mind.

**Beca  
** _Can you come over again tonight?_  
_I want to show you something_

* * *

While not exactly back to _normal_ , things are certainly moving in the right direction, as evidenced by the way Chloe lets herself into the house without knocking this time. It is a small gesture, a small step back to the norm, but Beca appreciates it. She appreciates Chloe showing at all even more.

In spite of last night’s conversation, Chloe greets Beca with a cheerful smile, something Beca finds immediately relaxing.

“Hey,” Beca says casually, pushing herself up from her lazy position on the couch. “Good day at work?”

“Yeah, it was actually pretty great,” Chloe responds easily. Beca likes the way Chloe dumps her purse down on the chair; it is clear she has made her way over here right from work, and Beca finds that she cannot help but bask in the growing domesticity. “So, what’s up?” Chloe asks, perching herself down beside her purse. She begins to shrug off her jacket, expectant gaze on Beca. “You wanted to show me something?”

It shouldn’t really surprise Beca, the fact that Chloe prompts her right away. In fact, the very _Chloe_ feel about it causes a small smile to tug at the corners of Beca’s lips. “Right,” she nods, shifting semi-uncomfortably from foot to foot. “I actually didn’t think you’d be here so early, I planned to, like, set some things up,” she rambles somewhat awkwardly, hand instinctively rising to the back of her neck.

Chloe’s lips purse in amusement. “I mean, I can leave and come back later, if you want me to?”

“No,” Beca responds quickly. “No, I want you here. I always want you here.”

The reassurance pulls a gentle smile to Chloe’s lips, and somehow seems to calm Beca further, too. Chloe doesn’t say anything, she just continues to watch Beca expectantly, so Beca takes it as her cue to go on.

“Alright,” Beca says, sucking in her lower lip between her teeth in thought. “So, um, last night you said something about intimacy… About me being intimate with someone that wasn’t you.” Her gaze settles on Chloe’s face, attempting to read her reaction. Chloe simply nods, so Beca continues. “I mean it, you know? That it wasn’t intimacy. Sex and intimacy, they’re not the same thing.”

“I know they’re not,” Chloe agrees, head nodding gently in understanding.

“Right,” Beca nods shortly, feet carrying her steadily closer toward Chloe. Easily, Beca lowers until she can kneel on the floor in front of her, palms settling reassuringly on Chloe’s thighs. Chloe glances down at her with a small yet genuine smile. “Honestly, I don’t know intimacy with anybody but you, Chlo. I don’t even want it with anyone but you. So, I guess I was just gonna try to show you that.”

Chloe licks over her lips, digesting Beca’s words. Beca takes comfort in the feeling of Chloe’s hands settling delicately over the top of her own, their fingers winding together almost automatically. “How were you going to show me?”

Immediately, Beca feels the way her cheeks heat up slightly. She knows there is a tinge of pink stretching across them; even if she couldn’t feel it, she can see it in the fond way Chloe studies her expression. “Uh, it’s kind of dorky,” Beca chuckles quietly, chewing down onto her bottom lip. “You remember how we used to take baths together, and we’d just talk for hours until the water got cold? I got a bottle of wine, and I was thinking maybe a couple candles around the tub… Glasses of wine. And maybe we could just… You know, do that again.” Beca blinks, shoulder shrugging halfheartedly. “That’s intimacy to me, Chlo. Just me and you, relaxing in our bathtub and talking for hours.”

Chloe remains uncharacteristically quiet throughout Beca’s small speech, though Beca notes the undeniable smile stretching onto her lips in response. Eventually, Chloe softly nods her head, and Beca feels the tension leaving her shoulders. “I think that’s perfect.”

And it is, it _is_ perfect, because like Beca had said, that truly is intimacy to her. The way Chloe helps Beca up from the floor, fingers tangled through Beca’s; the way Beca leads Chloe toward the stairs and up to the bathroom, it all signifies so much intimacy— _real_ intimacy.

Of course, they have to part to get things set up, though soon there are candles lining the bathtub, and Beca does her best to avoid watching Chloe as she peels off her clothes while Beca pours out two glasses of wine. It has been a long time since Beca has seen Chloe unclothed, but there is a very distinct level of comfort, of normalcy, once they are both seated in the water together, each occupying their own side of the tub.

“I can’t believe you thought this would be dorky,” Chloe chuckles quietly, relaxing back slightly. Her legs are stretched down one side of Beca’s body, and Beca takes note of how comfortable she looks as she lays with her wine glass held casually in her hand. The sight pulls a contented smile to Beca’s lips in response.

“I mean, it’s kind of dorky,” Beca shrugs lamely, bringing her own glass up to her lips. Her gaze flickers momentarily to the candles lining the tub, though she focuses easily on Chloe again. “The candles also totally don’t match.”

Chloe’s chuckle is a little more prominent this time. Her head shakes softly, familiar gaze settled on Beca’s face. “I don’t care about the candles.” Chloe shuffles slightly, free hand resting comfortably on Beca’s calf beneath the water. “What do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know,” Beca admits with another small shrug, “Anything. Tell me about your day.”

There is a look of contentment on Chloe’s features as she eases into casual conversation, telling Beca all about her day at work. Beca knows that work is stressful for Chloe, but she knows that she also adores it, and the way her eyes shine as she talks about her favorite students and the admittedly adorable things they get up to is something Beca finds herself completely losing herself in. Her adoring gaze rests unabashedly on Chloe, and the progress of their conversation is easy—it’s just so damn _easy_.

Their wine glasses empty quickly, and neither really seems to care to refill. Instead, they set them on the floor out of the way, and Chloe eventually motions Beca toward her side of the tub. The mess of twisted limbs and splashing water as Beca does her best to switch positions pulls a lighthearted giggle from the back of Chloe’s throat, Beca’s own amusement evident, though there is something very relaxing about the feeling of finally slotting between Chloe’s parted legs, Beca’s back resting comfortably against Chloe’s front.

Instinctively, long arms wrap delicately around Beca’s waist, and Beca thinks about how this is intimacy; this is _true_ intimacy, just her and Chloe.

“Can I ask you a question?” Chloe murmurs, lips pushing a chaste kiss to the damp skin of Beca’s bare shoulder.

Beca hums to herself, head nodding shortly. “Sure, anything.”

The question to follow does not seem to fit the general mood, the fact that Chloe pushes another small kiss to Beca’s shoulder. “Will you tell me what happened? With you and that guy.”

Naturally, Beca tenses up slightly. It is clear that Chloe feels it, too, since Beca notes the way her fingertips begin to brush protectively against the skin of Beca’s stomach. Beca knows that Chloe won’t push, that if she really doesn’t want to talk about it, she won’t. But curiosity truly is a bitch, and Beca feels like she owes it to Chloe to rid her mind of any contrived images that may linger there.

Beca swallows, leaning further back into Chloe’s body, almost like she just needs the protection. She appreciates the way Chloe’s grip tightens. “I was drunk,” she recalls somewhat slowly at first, glancing down into the water. She focuses on Chloe’s hands, on the familiarity of them as they rest against her. “So was he. I don’t know his name, I’ve never seen him before. We were at one of those bars that Amy likes, and she’d left already. He asked if I wanted a drink, but I was already pretty gone and I just wanted to… I don’t know, not feel.” Beca shrugs a shoulder defeatedly, chewing down onto her bottom lip in thought. “We went into the men’s restroom, and that was it. No before, no after.” As Beca speaks, she feels as though she is shrinking, like she is somehow becoming even smaller than ever before. Chloe’s arms around her, her fingertips still brushing against her skin beneath the water, is what keeps Beca grounded and in the present. “Is that what you were picturing?” Beca finally mumbles, unsure of if she even actually wants to know.

“No,” Chloe admits in a soft voice. It surprises Beca, the way she feels Chloe’s lips press delicately to her shoulder again. It is a nice surprise, of course, but a surprise all the same. “I don’t really know what I was picturing,” she mumbles quietly, lips still resting against Beca’s smooth skin. “I guess I’m just glad it wasn’t in our bed.”

At that, Beca’s brows tug together. Although she doesn’t move from between Chloe’s legs, she begins to sit a little further upright, until she can twist her torso to better face Chloe. She cannot read Chloe’s expression, cannot tell whether the look in those familiar eyes is one of sadness or relief. Gently, Beca shakes her head. “Do you think I would do that to you?”

In spite of herself, although she seems to think for a moment, Chloe eventually shakes her head in response. The ends of her curls are damp, and Beca instinctively reaches out to twist a few strands softly around her finger.

“I told you it wasn’t intimacy, Chlo,” Beca promises in the softest, most reassuring voice. Her gaze remains locked with Chloe’s, with that stare that she has gotten lost in so many times before, that stare she hopes she will have the privilege of being pulled in by forever. The finger twirling around Chloe’s damp curl slides upward to push the chunk of hair softly behind Chloe’s shoulder. “This is intimacy,” Beca whispers, “Me and you.”

For a moment, Chloe doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t do anything either. She just stares, her gaze scanning Beca’s face, and Beca tries to read her to no avail. Beca wants to question her, to ask her what she’s thinking, but she doesn’t get the chance to, not before Chloe is leaning forward to close the small gap between them. Instantly, Beca’s eyes flutter shut, lips connecting in the most comfortable, familiar way with Chloe’s.

With no intention of pulling away anytime soon, Beca stretches to turn her body properly, though Chloe stops her by parting slightly from the kiss. Beca’s lids flutter back open, gaze taking in Chloe’s expression. Chloe swallows, faint smile curving onto her lips, and Beca feels the way her heart begins to race. “Let’s go to our bed,” Chloe whispers, head nodding gently.

Although Beca leans back in to push her lips to Chloe’s once more, she definitely does not need to be told twice. Still reveling in the feeling of Chloe’s soft lips pressing firmly against her own, of kissing Chloe so wholeheartedly, Beca begins to shift in the water until she can stand, only parting from Chloe when their position means she absolutely has to.

The second they are on solid ground, Beca leans up to wrap her arms needily around Chloe’s neck, too caught up in the moment to even care that they are both still dripping with bath water and shiny bubbles. She leans up to kiss Chloe in a way that tells her she has never wanted anybody or anything more, and Chloe echoes the sentiment in the way her fingertips grasp readily at Beca’s bare waist.

While Chloe begins to guide Beca toward the bathroom door, she pauses with a soft chuckle against Beca’s lips. “Cuddling afterwards is going to suck if there’s soapy water all over the bed,” she murmurs, much to Beca’s disapproving groan.

It takes force for Beca to finally pull away, but she does so begrudgingly, until she can reach for a couple towels. Quickly, she hands one over to Chloe, then proceeds to wrap the other around her torso. She has no desire to be parted from Chloe for too long, so the towel can work its magic of absorption itself; Beca is more focused on pressing herself up against Chloe again, until Chloe’s pouted lips are seeking out her own once more.

By the time they have reached the bedroom, with Beca backing Chloe up toward the bed until the backs of her legs are hitting the mattress, Beca can feel the way her chest is rising and falling faster, the same way she can feel Chloe’s is, too. It is a sight she wants to see, to really take in, so Beca loosens the towel from around her body, letting it fall uselessly to the floor, then proceeds to unfasten Chloe’s, too.

Their bodies are still a little damp, but Beca doesn’t care. She doesn’t care about anything other than Chloe, than feeling Chloe’s body moving so naturally with her own. Carefully, she guides Chloe back until she is laying on the mattress, with Beca climbing on top of her, their lips never parting until Chloe’s head hits the pillow. Even then, Beca only pulls back to stare down at her, to take in the sight of Chloe laid on their bed, no clothing nor barriers between them. She sees the rising and falling of Chloe’s chest, the way the pace of Chloe’s breathing has picked up the same as her own. Beca has to take a moment to revel in the sight, to really drink in the movement of Chloe’s body, the expression of utter wanting on her face. She can see the way Chloe is watching her, too.

Silently, Chloe nods her head, as if to tell Beca it is okay. Beca’s throat feels dry, nerves suddenly overtaking her, but they are good nerves, the kind she only ever feels with Chloe. Swallowing, Beca slowly lowers down until she can push her lips, parted and hungry, to Chloe’s. Chloe lifts her head slightly from the pillow, meeting her halfway, and then it just… Doesn’t stop.

Unlike all of the other times before now, all of the times where Chloe has hesitated and pulled away, she doesn’t this time. Chloe doesn’t hesitate nor try to stop her as Beca’s nails trail softly up Chloe’s side, until she can push her hand between their bodies. She takes note of the way Chloe shivers beneath her touch, until Beca’s palm is cupping delicately around her breast. Chloe doesn’t stop her; instead, she parts her lips to push her tongue softly between the gap in Beca’s, until both are moving against one another’s in the most natural way. Chloe whimpers quietly as Beca’s fingers squeeze a little harder, as the pad of her thumb flickers over the stiffening peak of Chloe’s nipple. She whimpers, but she doesn’t stop her.

Although there is something very slow and steady about the way they begin, there is of course an incredible, undeniable amount of passion behind their movements. There is passion to the way their kisses grow hungrier, more urgent. The way Chloe pushes Beca upward until she is seated in her lap, Beca’s legs wrapped around her waist, is laced with the kind of passion that causes Beca’s whole body to ache with desperate wanting. She wants to feel Chloe, to relearn every inch of her body all over again.

It seems that Chloe has the same desire, judging by the way she reaches her hands up between their bodies, desperate fingers cupping at Beca’s breasts, palms moving to brush against her nipples. The aching between Beca’s legs increases with each new movement, and though she whines when Chloe’s full, swollen lips part from her own, she tilts her head to allow Chloe the room to begin peppering purposeful, needy kisses right the way down her jaw. She feels Chloe’s tongue against the skin of her neck, and the way Chloe’s lips part to push deliberate, open-mouthed kisses to every patch of skin causes Beca’s hips to roll instinctively into Chloe’s.

It would be so easy for Beca to touch Chloe, though she cannot help but lose herself in the familiar feeling of Chloe’s hands on her, of her mouth pressing against her as if reminding her that this is it, that they are _them_. Beca’s hands begin to trail down Chloe’s torso, short nails scraping feather lightly over toned abs and smooth hips, and she can feel the way Chloe’s skin prickles beneath her touch.

“God,” Beca murmurs breathlessly as Chloe ducks her head to take Beca’s hardened nipple between her teeth, pouted lips wrapping possessively around the increasingly stiffening bud. “God, Chlo, I want you,” she breathes unsteadily, one hand moving to tangle her fingers in the back of Chloe’s still damp hair. Beca leans back slightly to crane her neck, to watch the way Chloe’s lids flutter shut as she sucks needily at Beca’s pebbled nipple.

As Chloe’s hand slips in between them, fingertips grazing against Beca’s inner thigh, Beca tightens her grip slightly in Chloe’s hair, until she can gently pull her head back with the sole purpose of reconnecting their lips. Chloe doesn’t even attempt to resist, instead eagerly searching out Beca’s kiss-swollen lips with her own.

Beca can feel the way her already wet center pulses, how she aches with an increasingly urgent need to really _feel_ Chloe. She needs Chloe to touch her, and almost like she can read her mind, Chloe does just that. The pad of her finger presses to Beca’s entrance, coating itself in warm, desperate arousal, until she can begin pushing tight shapes into Beca’s neglected clit. Beca responds with an instant moan from the back of her throat, teeth biting down gently onto Chloe’s lower lip. The way her hips begin to move, the way her middle arches forward beneath the feeling of Chloe’s free palm resting against her lower back is all instinctive.

It is instinct for Beca’s lips to part in an effort to deepen their kiss, for her thighs to spread further and her body to push itself closer into Chloe’s touch, until Chloe is arching two fingers to sink mercifully inside of Beca’s dripping cunt.

“Fuck,” Chloe breathes into Beca’s mouth, evidently reveling in the feeling of warmth enveloping her fingers as Beca clenches around her. Their kisses have grown messy to make way for the way Beca moans in approval, until eventually she is pulling back altogether to instead rest her forehead, sticky and warm, against Chloe’s.

Beca’s mouth hangs open slightly, and she loses the use of her voice for a moment as Chloe’s fingers begin to move faster inside of her, tips curling to press against her in exactly the right place. Chloe’s palm shifts from Beca’s back to grasp gently at her hip, until she can begin to move Beca’s body in time with her fingers.

Grip loosening on Chloe’s curls, Beca’s hand falls downward until her nails are scraping down the smooth skin of Chloe’s bare back, both hands grasping desperately onto her as Chloe pulls her closer toward that natural edge.

Beca is anything but quiet as she comes. Chloe’s fingers are inside of her, pumping into her aching cunt relentlessly, and she whispers words of mumbled encouragement into Beca’s ear. Chloe tells her she’s beautiful, tells her she loves her, and Beca whimpers through her high, head nodding in reciprocation. She knows she is dripping onto the mattress beneath them, but she doesn’t care. She doesn’t care about anything other than Chloe’s body beneath her own, the way Chloe begins to slow down until she is removing her fingers from inside of her. Beca grasps onto Chloe’s body, tugs her hard against her, and moans into the feeling of Chloe’s lips pushing lazily to her own again.

Beca doesn’t return the favor because she has to, she does it because she _wants_ to. More than anything, Beca wants to feel Chloe’s body writhing beneath her touch, to taste the familiar taste of Chloe’s pooling arousal as it drips so deliciously from her tongue, and to commit every inch of her to memory all over again. Chloe comes seated on top of Beca, legs spread and body moving in such a beautiful, mesmerizing way as she rides Beca’s fingers that Beca wishes it never had to stop. Beca’s fingers are buried deeply inside of her, while her other hand clings onto Chloe’s, the subtle pain of Chloe’s nails digging into the back of her hand going completely unnoticed.

As their bodies part, only to reconnect again in a tangled mess of limbs once they are laid side by side in their bed, Beca is reminded of that intimacy she has been missing. It is solidified for her, the fact that it meant nothing with the nameless guy in the bar, as she stares into Chloe’s familiar, captivating blue eyes, both coming down from their high.

Beca is overcome with the feeling of belonging, of the kind of intimate connection she has only ever experienced with Chloe. Chloe is the only person Beca ever even _wants_ to experience it with. The way Chloe stares back at her, the way she drinks in the expression on Beca’s face, tells Beca wordlessly that Chloe agrees; that she feels the same way, too.

**Author's Note:**

> If you’re reading from start to finish, including the additional one-shots in order, now is where [chapter ten](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23369305/chapters/56442856) of the main fic would come in.


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